Once Bitten
by NotEnoughTimeOnMyHands
Summary: Red is led to believe that Liz has died. Their eventual reconciliation doesn't go the way Liz hopes. Angst and then some ... xx
1. Chapter 1

**A/N This is an AU story that I've been working on and it's causing me problems. I tried to write the back story but it was so complicated/long I gave up! So I've written a prologue that explains the events leading up to the main story. **

**Here's what happened...**

Cooper wants Elizabeth involved in an undercover operation linked to Tom Keens secret and dangerous double life! (Exciting ha!)

Tom has evaded capture and is causing trouble for the FBI - but it's more like a personal vendetta against Liz.

Cooper and other FBI bigwigs decide they need to fake her death, thinking this will stop Tom focusing on their operation, allowing them to continue with the Blacklist and ultimately capturing Tom himself.

They purposefully wait until Red is out of the country on business before approaching her with the plan and setting things in motion.

She feels uneasy but Cooper reassures her that Red will be informed immediately of the ruse. But Cooper has no plans to tell Red that her death is fake, thinking that with Elizabeth out of the picture that he will stop playing games and be more forthcoming.

Of course Red wouldn't just take the FBI's word for it but they manage to have enough people in place that his private investigations into the imagined incident don't uncover the truth.

On the surface it appears like Red deals with the loss of Lizzie, reluctantly cooperating with Cooper but he begins to draw away. Within 2 months they barely see or hear from him, he cites business reasons for his absence. Weeks later all contact is lost.

The undercover operation having been successful, Elizabeth returns 4 month after her supposed death to learn that Red was never told and that now they are unable to reach him. For operational reasons she remains legally dead but she comes back to the Blacksite to access resources and contacts that can help her track Red down.

**A/N if you are still with me then this is how I think it would play! **

Elizabeth keen thinks back to how it all started. She remembers the plan, the promises and the profile that led to her extended undercover operation.

She remembers how AD Cooper explained the need, the necessity of being off grid, and how her new identity would be achieved. But she spends most time ruminating on the decision they took to fake her death, the seriousness of that step, the ramifications.

The operation itself was dangerous for those most involved but she was part of the larger network supporting them as they infiltrated a home grown terrorist cell. The whole thing was prompted by the modicum of information they had gathered about her fake husband.

She brought to it her skills as a profiler and her knowledge of Tom. She'd argued with Cooper that she in fact knew nothing about the man but he argued back that you don't live with someone for years and not learn something.

But even weeks later, back in the Blacksite searching for Red, she felt the holdover from the operation. Traits from her undercover identity staying with her like a hangover. She didn't recognise her life; maybe it was easier to be someone else. She dressed differently, sexier, more confidently. She used a different turn of phrase from the old Liz. She sometimes felt it slipping but it wasn't giving her up entirely.

It's the old Liz that searches for Red but it's her alter ego that fuels the search, mulls it over, and approaches it from different angles.

Yet she knows him. She knows his habits. It's as much personal as it is profiling. She knows his tolerance for alcohol, his love of a good book and she knows exactly how highly he regards exquisite tailoring and how hard that would be to come by.

It's not Saville Row, it's not custom made suits bought at a high price in New York. This is handmade, hand stitched, meticulously crafted masterpieces that few have the knowledge or skill to achieve.

She smiles thinking she has him. She knows it'll mean leg work, she knows it may still take months but she has a crumb to follow and she likes where it leads. She leaves the Blacksite, leaves DC and travels using the passport of her fake identity.

But it does take months, longer than she really has the patience for. At first she's careful but as time passes and desperation increases she begins to let her guard down.

When another month passes she becomes so frustrated that instead of the covert surveillance of places she thinks he'll visit, she begins to visit herself, finally asking for him, leaving her name along with a story about how they are old friends.

She attributes this boldness to her new personality because she thinks it's reckless and maybe a little dangerous too, but he has proved as elusive as a criminal of his calibre needs to be.

When Red first hears about a young woman asking for him he dismisses it. Of course he'll have Grey or Dembe investigate, assess the danger but nothing beyond that.

Then weeks later he's being fitted for a new suit by a craftsman in a small town in Italy. They know each other well and though Red has lost interest in most things since Lizzie's death, the old man keeps him talking about common acquaintances, shared recollections.

"Raymond, who is this young femme fatale I've had asking about you?"

"Ah I've been hearing about this. Must be an old associate perhaps hoping to rekindle our relationship." Red says hoping to dismiss the topic and move onto something of greater interest.

"I might have known. I tell you she's been quite determined, says she must get a hold of you" the old man continues, absentmindedly continuing with his task. When he's completed the final alterations Red steps away, putting on his suit jacket and preparing to leave.

Then the old man says, "I wouldn't discard her so quickly Raymond. Especially not when she seems so hell bent on finding you."

"I have no intention of doing anything with her my friend. It seems though some have met her, none know who she is" Red says finally, hoping to satisfy the old man and leave.

"Oh I can help there. She left her name with me. I've written it down somewhere" the tailor says meandering off to find the name of the woman he has been describing.

When he returns Red stands exactly as before, impatience coursing his veins, while his appearance portrays a man at ease. He even manages a small smile when the old man returns clutching a piece of paper.

"Ah here it is, she was quite something Raymond. Her name is Elizabeth Keen" the old man says.

Red doesn't move, doesn't blink, and doesn't take a breath. He just hears the words and lets them settle. Then he responds calmly, "there must be a mistake. That particular acquaintance of mine has passed away".

"Oh I see, I'm sorry" the old man continues.

"No need, I will see you in a few days" Red says then makes his way to the door.

Outside Dembe is waiting with the car. Red doesn't mention what the old man says, doesn't mention her name the whole journey. But when they walk into the house he calls Grey and tells them both to hunt down the imposter.

What they uncover is the tendrils of the truth, an undercover operation, and an assumed identify. It's not enough to appease Red but he's learned to go without what he needs these past months.

Grey thinks the news will please him, buoy him up. He is worried that the restlessness, the ruthlessness of the past few months will continue. But in the coming days there is no change. Red doesn't ask for updates, doesn't direct their enquiries, doesn't contribute to the task at all.

And when Grey brings him the truth he doesn't speak, doesn't acknowledge the words, he just continues to stand at the window and sip his drink. He doesn't lift his head when Grey exits, doesn't focus his now clouded vision on his surroundings.

But as he makes his way across the room he turns and throws his glass into the fire. It's a small gesture and it doesn't even begin to satisfy him.

Only three days later she knows she's got him, flying to Italy when word from an ex FBI agent reaches her, bringing news of his whereabouts days before.

He's extended his stay in Italy, allowing her the time to draw close. He has grown familiar with the comings and goings of the small town and feels comfortable there.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N Wow - thank you so much for the response to the first chapter. This story is looking to be shorter than I expected. Maybe this and then another chapter (already under construction). The angst continues here full force! But I hope this chapter answers any questions you have, if not I'm certain the next will fill in the blanks.**

As she steps out of her rental and retrieves her bag she sees a dark car a few door along. She can't see inside so she wonders about the danger, but finally she walks towards it, logic dictating that danger would already have presented itself.

And it's Dembe who steps out of the car, greets her, takes her bag and wordlessly drives her out of town and towards the man she's been searching for.

She's a little nervous as she steps out of the car, up the steps and into his current abode. But she hides it well, letting the confident self assured traits of her assumed personality take over.

When she walks into the room she sees him with his back to her. She feels relief at the sight of him. It's been more than 6 months but she still feels the connection to him, some pull or mysterious link that she can't explain. He doesn't move; it's not quite the happy reunion she'd imagined. Finally he slowly turns to look at her.

"Elizabeth, what a pleasure it is to see you again" he says in a soft silky tone. It's completely convincing but she sees the warm words of his welcome contradicted in his eyes. And she knows because he called her Elizabeth that he's not as happy to see her as he'd have her believe.

"You don't seem surprise" she says simply in response.

"To see Lazarus rise from the dead. Why ever would I be surprised?" He replies dryly.

"I'd apologise but it wasn't my mistake that led to this confusion." She says stepping further into the room.

"Confusion" he says mimicking her light tone. She realises now just how angry he is but she steels herself ready to take it on.

"Red" she begins.

"I'm not coming back" he says interrupting.

"I know" she responds.

"Then why are you here?" He asks his tone hard, the anger boiling to the surface.

"You know why I'm here" she says, certain that he feels the same connection that she does.

"I haven't the slightest idea." He laughs, the sound clouded by the heat of his anger.

"Cooper agreed that you'd be notified. I thought maybe a day at most and you'd have known. I know you're angry..." She says before he interrupts.

"Angry? We had a business agreement, when the terms of that agreement no longer satisfied me I terminated it. Nothing more" he says more evenly, either masking his anger or bringing it under control.

"Enough Red. All these months and still you play games" she says raising her voice.

He steps towards her and grabs her neck. His fingers holding it roughly on the side, his thumb resting uncomfortably in the hallow beneath her chin, forcing her to lift her head. She thinks he's either going to kiss her or kill her, but she's not sure which.

"Raymond" Dembe says from the door. Yet Red doesn't move. "Raymond" Dembe tries again.

"Agent Keen is leaving, kindly escort her Dembe" he says while he removes his hand, his tone threatening all the same.

"I'm not going anywhere." She says stepping away from him. "Maybe in a few days but not tonight. I've travelled thousands of miles in the last few weeks. I'd like a hot shower and a stiff drink." she says.

Dembe leaves the room and when he returns silently to the threshold he is holding her bag.

Red doesn't speak but he looks from Dembe to her and back. She knows she's supposed to follow Dembe but she holds off, waiting to see if he'll address her.

Finally he lowers his eyes, he's angry at himself for touching her like that, shame keeps him silent as he moves away from her, back towards the window.

In the weeks following her supposed death he wanted nothing more than for her to walk back into his life. He may not have shown it but he mourned her, each month passing like an extended torture. The idea of living without her burned at his soul and he was sure that it had stolen what remained of his humanity. But now he's so consumed by rage he fears for her safety.

Upstairs Dembe leads her to a guest room. He places her bag on the bed and moves towards the door before addressing her.

"He has been silent all these months, like the calm that exists before a great storm arrives. I will stay close but you must choose your words carefully." Dembe says softly, his tone telling her of his concern for his friend, for her.

She gives him a small smile and nods.

When she's alone she sits on the bed, thinking about how she feels, willingly acknowledging the disappointment that has settled. She thought that their reunion might confirm her feeling, might feel like the homecoming she is yet to experience. Maybe he genuinely doesn't feel what she feels... Maybe she's just lost and doesn't know what she's feeling either.

She finally gets up and makes her way into the bathroom. She turns on the shower, stripping off her clothes and folding them while she waits for the heat to build. She wasn't lying to him, she feels the weariness of her searching and she wants the water to ease it away.

The pressure and heat begin to work on her, she's calmer than when she arrived. The steam from the shower has clouded the air but she stills when she sees movement near the door. It's difficult to see anything so she doesn't bother to cover her body, wondering if it's him or her imagination.

When she emerges wrapped in an elegant robe from the bathroom he's leaning against the door frame, closely tracking her with his eyes. She busies herself, opening her bag and retrieving a few items, walking over to place them on the dresser. When she returns to her bag she turns to face him, "we both know you're not going to watch me dress" she says.

He pushes lightly from the frame, walking deliberately towards her. He stops directly in front of her, not losing focus for a second. He smells like whiskey but also his own unmistakable scent, she's missed it. He then lifts his hand and finds the silk tie on her robe. She doesn't say anything, tries to let his actions wash over her without a response. He waits, testing her and after a beat he pulls the tie until it is released from the knot.

Her robe slips slightly while they both continue to stare at each other. She feels like her temperature has risen but she's just as sure that the colour has drained from her face, she needs to save this, to give him an out, "I'll take that drink now" she says.

He stops, tilts his head up and to the side without his eyes leaving hers. Then he turns and walks out without a sound.

She dresses for dinner, the continued remnants of her assumed personality taking great pleasure in her appearance. She has refined the look and thinks it's something even Red would approve of. Ordinarily the boots alone would have him raising an eyebrow.

She finds Grey waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs. "Dinner is waiting for you in the dining room" he says without greeting her.

"Where is he?" She asks.

"Mr Reddington will not be joining you for dinner" Grey continues in the same tone.

"Where is he?" She asks again.

Grey doesn't responds but after a short pause he looks towards the room she'd met him in earlier. She walks towards it, anticipation immediately building.

He's on the sofa studying the flames of the fire, running over the memories of her and comparing them to the person he's seen tonight. She's the same but there are small differences, not enough to alarm him but enough to notice. She's sharper somehow; she seemed to know how to handle him when he, for the second time, overstepped the mark.

He hears the door open but doesn't raise his eyes. His anger has cooled a little, maybe it's the soothing balm of her presence or maybe it's the alcohol. He wants to look at her more, to drink her in, this creature that was lost to him.

She makes her way to the side of the room, pouring herself a drink. She comes back to sit but chooses a chair rather than sitting near him. Time passes and neither of them speak. He still hasn't looked directly at her but he's allowed his peripheral vision to pick up on a few details. He notes the changes again, realises why the old tailor called her femme fatale.

"I searched for you all these months" she says when she's finished her drink.

"You only found me because I allowed it" he responds, as much to her as to himself. And it's true. He wanted to see her, wanted her close. He wants more than he's willing to admit, far more than he's willing to tell her.

She lets the words hang there. Thankful that she's here even if there still is a distance between them.

"I'm glad" she says simply. When he doesn't respond she stands and says, "shall we have dinner now?"

She leaves, thinks how he followed her upstairs earlier, hoping that he might follow her now. Grey is there again, waiting. And when she notices only one place setting she says, "Would you bring a plate for him please?" To his credit he doesn't question that Red isn't there but goes to retrieve what's needed for another place.

Grey pours her a glass of wine and she sits with it until a few moments later Red comes in. He moves with the same purpose he's always done but he doesn't take his seat, it's more like he intends to check she's there so she gets up and pours him a glass of wine.

He accepts the gesture like the invitation it was intended to be and sits down at the table. Neither speaks and neither eats very much, the tension in the air stifling conversation and appetites.

It is exhausting for both of them but she's got jet lag to contend with so she finally decides to bid him goodnight. She wants to touch him, feel his flesh below her fingers so as she says the words she reaches out and touches his hand. He doesn't move but says, "Elizabeth" a warning in his tone and in the name.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N Hello – this is a huge huge chapter but I'm back at work tomorrow and know it will be difficult or impossible to update after so this is the rest of my story! More angst but then something a little softer.**

**I think I'll spend the rest of my time before ep 11 fantasising about Lizzie's response to Red's return. I'm thinking she'll hug and kiss him and tell him how much she missed him ... wait wait... that's what I'd do, not Lizzie ;-)**

**To be honest I don't care how it goes as long as I get to listen to James Spader's voice! *swoon* xx**

**I want to thank everyone for the great response to this story! Thanks for all the comments/follows/favs. Especially thank you to the guests who I have no other way to thank – it means a great deal**.

She doesn't sleep much that night. When she rises the next day she goes down to the news from Grey that he is out. She feels a panic build, she hadn't expected some tearful reunion but she thought he might be happy to see her at least. She worries about her own growing desire for him, suddenly free to gnaw at her, sowing seeds of doubt.

Refusing Greys offer of breakfast Elizabeth restlessly walks the rooms he's inhabited, wondering about his life in the past 6 months.

Red stays away as long as he can. Tasks that could have waited accomplished in a day. He doesn't want to return to her, doesn't want her to see his anger anymore.

But it's a struggle because he's also consumed by a desire for her. One that was built while they worked together and was crushed by the news of her death. It has resurrected itself easily enough but now he is trying to contain it.

He wonders what kind of man pain has turned him into; he already disliked the individual his previous hardships have created. He thinks that she deserves someone untouched by such evolution. He thinks she deserves to be with a person who would tell her that he had missed her, that he loved her when he knew it in his heart to be true.

It took him 20 years to love someone after he lost his family, 20 years in darkness, 20 years alone. And even though he feels the pull towards her, the darkness is there; familiar, inviting, reassuring.

Finally he gives up and has Dembe take him back. He finds from Grey that she hasn't eaten and that she's asleep in the living room, having spent the day wandering aimlessly. He feels a further guilt and he fixes her a sandwich and something to drink.

He takes it with him, finding her sleeping form settled on his end of the sofa. He places the snack on the side table and watches her, finally able to study her without her knowledge. He could sit there all night but he knows it wouldn't be enough. He brushes her hair gently from the side of her face saying, "Elizabeth".

She doesn't stir; the sleepless night and jet lag holding her steady. He runs his fingers over her temple, round her face and tries again, "Elizabeth".

This time she stirs; she hears something, a familiar voice as it calls her name. She thinks she feels someone, a ghost of a touch on her head, on her hand. Then she hears him call her again and she opens her eyes, finds that he's not touching her and feels forlorn, and crushed by the disappointment.

He settles back as she wakes. Lets her get her bearings, adjust to her conscious state. He waits till she's more alert and tells her about the food. She thanks him but he wordlessly brushes her gratitude aside.

"Where have you been?" she asks when she finishes eating.

"I had business to attend to. A meeting in a town several miles from here." He says to explain his prolonged absence. He hates himself for lying. But what can he say, _'I'm avoiding you, afraid that I couldn't survive the sorrow of having you and losing you again. That for both our sakes you should gets as far away from me as possible?'_ Instead he just stands, avoiding the truth, getting a drink before moving to the window to contemplate the view and his hellish existence.

She sits back in the seat, releasing a breath of air. She's beyond frustrated. She thought that the distance, the time he'd spent away that day would result in a change. But he's come back more shut in than ever. She watches him looking outside, his drink resting on the window ledge his hands in his pockets.

She can't help it, or she chooses not to. She stands and quietly walks over to him. She knows he will be aware that she's moved but she's not put off. She stands behind him and slips her arms under his, wraps them around his body and settles the side of her face on his back.

He stiffens at her touch but doesn't move. He neither reciprocates not attempts to remove her. She rests on him, enjoying the heat and the feeling of his body pressing into hers.

After a few minutes he says, "Elizabeth". She doesn't immediately respond to him. "Enough" he says. She lifts her face, moving her forehead till it rests on his back, while she slowly slides her arms from around him. For a fraction of a second she continues to rest there, her hands lightly on his lower back, her head between his shoulder blades.

Then she wordlessly leaves the room, the pain of his rejection suffocating her.

He continues to stand, feeling the residual heat from her body as it dissipates and vanishes. He'd closed his eyes while she touched him, cherishing the closeness of her. It was a sweet agony, one he knows he can't repeat.

He makes the decision then, knows he has to leave her before she weakens his defences further. Before he can't avoid telling her how he feels. He thinks she's overcome by misplaced guilt, that she can't return his feelings, and that if she knows him further it will only discourage her but he's wrong. She knows him well enough, she knows he's far from perfect but she wants him all the same.

They both pass another troubled night. Her sleep comes in fits and starts, more than once she awakens feeling his presence, but missing his shadow as it passes from the room.

She rises early again, this time awoken by the sounds of movement, when she's dressed she goes to see what's happening; finding Dembe and Grey in the task of packing and organising.

She then goes to find him, locating him at the desk in the library, his back to the door, himself involved in a task of sorting books and paper.

"You're leaving" she states, not needing to question what the evidence tells her.

"Yes. I've stayed here much too long" he responds without turning to her. She notes he used the singular, he means that he's moving on, not them.

She nods despite the fact he's not looking. She thinks how she searched for him , found him, only to have her heart broken.

He continues to flit through the papers, eyes down like he's consumed by the task. She starts to think about leaving when she hears his voice, soft but certain, "I can't say your name".

It's painful to acknowledge but probably necessary, he hasn't said Lizzie once since she came. "I know" she says lifting her fingers, nervously rubbing her scar. She watches him as he stills, yet he doesn't turn or look at her.

She knows when he goes that she won't find him again and decides if he's going to leave then he can at least hear everything that she came here to say.

"I feel like I'm never going to see you again. I can't imagine what that will be like." She pauses, gathering her thoughts, calming herself.

"It's painful for me to think about, just as all those months undercover and all those months searching for you were painful too. I need for you to know how I feel, so that even if I never see you again I'll be able to tell myself that I said it to you. And I know you're so angry with me..." she says before tears choke her and she has to stop again.

"I'm not angry with you. I'm angry with myself. I've already lost so much and then you." He says, his own voice not its usual collected tone.

She nods then, in recognition of what he's telling her. Tears pour down her face, blurring her vision. "Red.." She tries but she can't make it further. What she has to say will have to go unsaid while grief consumes her. She lifts her hand, resting her weight on the door frame before exiting the room.

She makes it upstairs, finding the rooms now empty of his belongings, Dembe and Grey having completed their tasks and exited the house. She goes to the room that she knows to be his bedroom but there is nothing of his left, not even his essence lingers in the air. She sits on his bed, silently weeping for her loss.

Outside he walks to the car, already beginning the task of masking his emotions, burying them deep within him once more. Dembe is waiting, when he reaches the car he says, "Raymond". But before he can say anymore Red responds, "No".

When she hears the house still, knows that he's no longer there, that he has left without stopping to hear what she wanted to tell him, she lets the despair take her for awhile before finally leaving his room.

She is unaware of her actions, directionless but somehow she gathers the belongings she has and makes is to the foot of the stairs.

That's where she stays, she thinks if motivation was required for her heart to beat or her lungs to breath then she'd have died when he left. She needs to walk to town or arrange some transport but instead she just sits as the shadows lengthen and the day passes.

She falls asleep, resting there on the bottom steps. It's a deep and difficult slumber. She frowns, even in the wilderness of sleep there is no peace or escape from her troubles.

Red travels all the way to his jet, Dembe watchful the whole time for a signal or a sign that he is wavering in his decision. But he just looks out into the world, his dark mood clouding an almost perfect day. When he steps from the car about to mount the steps he catches Dembe's eye.

"What do you have to say my friend" Red says no longer able to avoid his repeated glances.

"I only wish for you to know happiness, that is all" Dembe says.

Red stops, steps away from Dembe, away from the jet. He wanders for a moment. Finally turning to Dembe and saying in a raised troubled voice, "she deserves better".

Dembe looks at him quizzically, "and what do you deserve?" He asks.

Red removes his fedora, rubs his head. He was so convinced until Dembe started his wordless surveillance, or maybe he wasn't. It's difficult to think about anything clearly when all he can think about is her.

"What if she's no longer there?" Red replies.

"She will be there." Dembe says with certainty, going back to the car.

And they do find her there. She hasn't awoken or moved on the step. His heart skips a beat when he sees her, wondering for her safety and about his decision to leave.

While Dembe returns their bags to the rooms Red carries her upstairs. He places her on his bed, removes her shoes and covers her. When he leaves her it's only for a short time to find Dembe and make arrangements for their extended stay.

She awakens; confused to find herself in bed when she thought she'd made her way downstairs. She puts the disorientation down to her grief and again gathers her belongings before going.

Red hears her moving above and finishes his arrangements with Dembe. As he enters the hallway he sees her walk into the living room, her bag again at the bottom of the stairs.

She hasn't closed the door all the way and he can hear as she moves around the room. He doesn't want to startle her, considering that she doesn't know of his return.

She pours a drink and walks to the window. Deciding that it may be too late now to walk back to town. She turns to go and find her phone when she sees him. The glass slips from her hands, smashing at her feet.

She just watches as he steps closer. When he's crossed about half the room she speaks to him. "I thought you left" she says quietly.

He draws near her, takes her hand and leads her away from the broken glass. "I did leave, but then I thought better of that decision". He says.

"Who put me in bed?" She asks.

"I did" he responds settling her on the sofa and getting them both a drink.

As he fixes the drinks she watches him, hardly blinking, not looking away for a moment. When he comes back she observes him like she expects him to leave again at any moment. He passes her the drink, settles next to her, while she drops her eyes to the floor.

She doesn't speak, doesn't lift her drink, doesn't look at him again.

"Why did you come back?" She asks. Her head telling her to ask while her heart just wants to enjoy the feeling of him near her.

"I realised I couldn't be without you " he says.

She just gently nods her head, like she is lightly accepting his words but he's not sure she's heard him at all.

"I'm sorry I wasn't more welcoming. I only heard you were still alive a few days ago. It took me till now to reconcile myself with everything". He says beginning to explain himself, a task he knows will take days, maybe weeks.

"Cooper promised me. I would never have left you like that" she explains.

"I know. If you knew what you meant to me then you'd know why I reacted as I did." He says.

"How could I know? You've never told me. And even when I came here you hardly spoke. I tried to tell you" she says, emotion filling her voice again.

"Once you were gone I couldn't hear anything good. Even when I saw you my thoughts were so dark that I wouldn't believe it". He says reaching for her hand.

They sit in silence. Eventually night draws in and he's conscious that she hasn't eaten, probably since the sandwich the day before.

He stands and offers her his hand, leads her to the kitchen, sits her in a seat before moving around. He prepares a simple pasta dish - a favourite of his from this region.

They eat in comfortable silence, when he's satisfied that she's eaten enough he gets them some wine. With the meal over he clears the plates and leads them back into the living room.

"Do you want to tell me how you found me?" He asks when they are settled.

She looks at him thinking how to explain her assumed identity, the restless tenacity it brought her. "When I came back I felt like a different person. Hearing the news that you'd left pulled the rug out from under my feet. I think I continued to inhabit the fake personality I'd assumed."

"You seem different. Subtle changes but noticeable" he responds.

"But then I remembered that I knew you. And that I couldn't rely on anyone else to find you" she says looking at him. "I hated being without you".

He smiles. "Let's get to bed" He says.

He takes her upstairs and when he pauses she moves towards his room, he watches as she goes in and waits for him beside the bed. He hadn't assumed there would be intimacy, but he wants it all the same.

Red walks over to stands close to her. She lifts her head and he meets her lips. They still need to talk, he still needs to explain himself but neither can wait to be close.

He strips off her clothing, his teeth grazing her lips, her neck, eventually her nipples. She moans into his mouth the first time he touches her. She forgets about it all; all the time without him, all the waiting, all the pain.

She starts to remove his clothing, wanting the feeling of his skin as it rests entirely on hers. She gasps his name and before long he says hers too. When she first hears him call her Lizzie it's almost a whisper but he repeats it again and again, as he looks at her, kisses her, as he tenderly caresses her body and as they make love.

In that moment there is no Blacklist, no FBI, no moment beyond the moment they share. For hours they each enjoy the body and pleasure of the other as much as they can. Then in the morning, as the gentle Italian light filters into the room they start again.

When they talk they talk intensely; sharing everything from the past that needs to be said and needs to be known. And when they make love it's all consuming, their love manifested in the touches, actions and movements.

But they have learned the lessons that experience set out to teach them so they don't withhold secrets from each other and they never spend more time apart than is necessary. It brings them both peace and the happiness that we all desire.


End file.
